Across Time: A Collection of Short Stories

Ghost Written

I can't believe my eyes. The letter must be some kind of practical joke. Maybe there's a bomb inside—! Immediately my fingers search for any odd lumps under the yellow, crinkling envelope—nothing. Who might send you a bomb anyway?

He couldn't have sent this. Yet, sure enough, his name and address is printed in solid ink, along with that of the addressee—me. The two cent stamp in the corner shows George Washington staring at the postmark—September 28, 1928, Chicago, Illinois. Unbelievable. Today is September 30, 1972. My fingers trembling, I fumble with the letter and rip it open. Then I sink onto my dorm bed, clutching at the paisley sheets.

"Dear Dawn," it begins in scratchy letters. My name. That's my name. How could he know it? He died before I was born. A chill runs down my spine, knocking my knees together. "Get it outta your head," Mom berates me in my mind. But I can't.

Maybe the letter was written by a ghost. I've seen ghosts before. The first time was while I was at high school, which everyone said was haunted by a girl who died by falling over the stair rail. While on the steps, I felt a tug at my hair. When I turned around, nobody was there. Yet, after I had continued on a few stairs, a figure blocked my way—the ghost of a girl. I screamed and ran away fast as I could. Mom told me I hadn't seen a thing and not to be stupid—she only believes in things that she can see.

Breathing out sharply, I return to the letter.

"I don't mean to scare you, only to warn you. First, let me tell you some things. It'll make more sense later, I promise. One night, when we were coming in from the cotton fields, where my family worked as sharecroppers, a black shadow hulked between the rows. It looked like a giant dog. I tugged at Papa's shirt-sleeve and pointed back where I'd seen the shadow, my hand trembling like anything. Papa said he didn't see nothing. But two glowing eyes stared at me. I ran after Papa, struck with the screaming meemies.

"Not long after, I found Mama in the makeshift kitchen in our cabin, packing. She said we were moving to Chicago! The eel's hips! She said she and Papa were gonna get good work, instead of being treated like slaves again. Papa was gonna work in a factory to help with the war. And me? I jumped up and down for joy.

"The first day of school there, the teacher sat me next to a girl named Lillian. We got to talking. She said that Chicago was a real dilly, a great place to be. Then the teacher turned around and told us to focus. That started us laughing until we couldn't stop. Lillian was the bee's knees.

"Years later, I met her near the park and turned something around and around in my pocket. She asked if everything was all right. My fingers trembling, I gave a ring to her, its diamond glinting in the sunlight. She just threw her head back and laughed.

"We bought an apartment and saved up to buy a general store. A few years later, we had a baby girl. Your mother. Nothing could ruin my happiness. But then I saw it again. That dog, lurking in the shadows in an alleyway. I was so distracted I stepped out in front of traffic; a jalopy rammed right into me. That was it. I couldn't go on knowing I'd left my wife and girl behind, so I stayed as a ghost.

"Being a ghost is funny. I can see the past and the future, since I'm not a part of either. I've watched over you and your mother for years. Your mother has done real well with our general store. And I'm proud of how you were the valedictorian in your class. I knew I could never let nothing bad happen to you. When I saw that black dog that killed me coming after you, I had to send a letter through time to you. I can't lose you.–Edward"

I put the letter down, my head spinning as with vertigo. As I glance up, I notice something just outside the window. There, between two dorms, its glowing eyes watching me—a hulking black shadow.